


Fire to Our Homes

by sebastianathefirst



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: M/M, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 23:31:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebastianathefirst/pseuds/sebastianathefirst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse of the road to healing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire to Our Homes

Aoba opened his eyes, and even then he saw dark. He failed to stop a wheeze as he waved his arms in front of him, his knees jutting in all directions until he felt the cold woolly blanket and the edge of the bed. Blindly he scrambled off it, fell onto the wooden floor, and crawled anywhere but _here_.

From behind him he heard the groan that had terrorized him so that his wrist slipped, and his cheek hit the ground. He dragged his knees forward, hoping to be still able to move, when the light came on. Turning over, he looked down at his naked frame—

—and could not find the bruises, the blood. From the bed, he saw Mink—gaunt-faced, one side of his waist curved as he raised his body off the bed, his hair loose and slipping off his shoulders.

_Gold eyes._

"Aoba," he breathed, and said no more, moved no more.

_He said his name._

This was not the Mink that haunted him; this was the one he'd revered, found, and when he promised himself to him, cherished.

"Mink," Aoba rasped, hoisting himself upward on trembling knees. He took large, uneven steps, and fell forward when he reached the bed. In quick, smooth gestures, Mink caught him, as if he had been ready to.

_His skin smells like cinnamon. His hands are careful._

Aoba encircled his arms around Mink's neck, and pressed his body firmer against him. He doesn't want to close his eyes, he felt the _other_ Mink prowling in the shadows of his own head, waiting to drag him into that darkness.

"Mink," his name left Aoba out of breath, "Mink, it won't go away. He won't go away."

"It's not your fault," Mink whispered, and Aoba felt his palms making long, gentle strokes along his back. He had given the same assurance the last time, and the time before that. "Nobody blames you. I don't blame you."

"I hate this," Aoba whined, blinking tears from his eyes. "He's still there. He still makes me afraid. He's always waiting, and I'm never safe."

He felt Mink's hold on him tighten, and he exhales against his cheek. He listened to Mink's voice, low and and earnest. "I won't say that you shouldn't fear him anymore. But he will never be able to touch you. He will never be able to harm you. I swear."

A wave, strong but not forceful, traveled along Aoba's body, caressing his throat, his lungs, his heart. He pulled Mink and himself back into bed, sighing against his chest. "Hold me."

"Always." Mink caressed the bangs from Aoba's forehead before placing a tender kiss. "Close your eyes."

When he nodded, Mink brought his body to the bed, and Aoba's back was warmed by the skin of his chest. Mink offered one arm to his head, and the other was caressing his stomach. Soon there were nips and short breaths on his neck, and an occasional relaxing vocal.

"I will not let him have you."

Stifling a gasp, Aoba closed his eyes, and in Mink's arms, he found that he was safe.


End file.
